Civil
Disobedience - Part 3 of 3
by Henry
David Thoreau - 1849
Civil Disobedience
- 1
[1]
The night in prison was novel and interesting
enough. The prisoners in their shirt-sleeves
were enjoying a chat and the evening air in the
doorway, when I entered. But the jailer said,
"Come, boys, it is time to lock up"; and so they
dispersed, and I heard the sound of their steps
returning into the hollow apartments. My
room-mate was introduced to me by the jailer as
"a first-rate fellow and a clever man." When the
door was locked, he showed me where to hang my
hat, and how he managed matters there. The rooms
were whitewashed once a month; and this one, at
least, was the whitest, most simply furnished,
and probably the neatest apartment in the town.
He naturally wanted to know where I came from,
and what brought me there; and, when I had told
him, I asked him in my turn how he came there,
presuming him to be an honest man, of course;
and, as the world goes, I believe he was. "Why,"
said he, "they accuse me of burning a barn; but
I never did it." As near as I could discover, he
had probably gone to bed in a barn when drunk,
and smoked his pipe there; and so a barn was
burnt. He had the reputation of being a clever
man, had been there some three months waiting
for his trial to come on, and would have to wait
as much longer; but he was quite domesticated
and contented, since he got his board for
nothing, and thought that he was well treated.
[2]
He occupied one window, and I the other; and I
saw that if one stayed there long, his principal
business would be to look out the window. I had
soon read all the tracts that were left there,
and examined where former prisoners had broken
out, and where a grate had been sawed off, and
heard the history of the various occupants of
that room; for I found that even here there was
a history and a gossip which never circulated
beyond the walls of the jail. Probably this is
the only house in the town where verses are
composed, which are afterward printed in a
circular form, but not published. I was shown
quite a long list of verses which were composed
by some young men who had been detected in an
attempt to escape, who avenged themselves by
singing them.
[3]
I pumped my fellow-prisoner as dry as I could,
for fear I should never see him again; but at
length he showed me which was my bed, and left
me to blow out the lamp.
[4]
It was like travelling into a far country, such
as I had never expected to behold, to lie there
for one night. It seemed to me that I never had
heard the town-clock strike before, nor the
evening sounds of the village; for we slept with
the windows open, which were inside the grating.
It was to see my native village in the light of
the Middle Ages, and our Concord was turned into
a Rhine stream, and visions of knights and
castles passed before me. They were the voices
of old burghers that I heard in the streets. I
was an involuntary spectator and auditor of
whatever was done and said in the kitchen of the
adjacent village-inn—a wholly new and rare
experience to me. It was a closer view of my
native town. I was fairly inside of it. I never
had seen its institutions before. This is one of
its peculiar institutions; for it is a shire
town.(1)
I began to comprehend what its inhabitants were
about.
[5]
In the morning, our breakfasts were put through
the hole in the door, in small oblong-square tin
pans, made to fit, and holding a pint of
chocolate, with brown bread, and an iron spoon.
When they called for the vessels again, I was
green enough to return what bread I had left;
but my comrade seized it, and said that I should
lay that up for lunch or dinner. Soon after he
was let out to work at haying in a neighboring
field, whither he went every day, and would not
be back till noon; so he bade me good-day,
saying that he doubted if he should see me
again.
[6]
When I came out of prison—for some one
interfered, and paid that tax—I did not perceive
that great changes had taken place on the
common, such as he observed who went in a youth
and emerged a tottering and gray-headed man; and
yet a change had to my eyes come over the
scene—the town, and State, and country—greater
than any that mere time could effect. I saw yet
more distinctly the State in which I lived. I
saw to what extent the people among whom I lived
could be trusted as good neighbors and friends;
that their friendship was for summer weather
only; that they did not greatly propose to do
right; that they were a distinct race from me by
their prejudices and superstitions, as the
Chinamen and Malays are; that in their
sacrifices to humanity, they ran no risks, not
even to their property; that after all they were
not so noble but they treated the thief as he
had treated them, and hoped, by a certain
outward observance and a few prayers, and by
walking in a particular straight though useless
path from time to time, to save their souls.
This may be to judge my neighbors harshly; for I
believe that many of them are not aware that
they have such an institution as the jail in
their village.
[7]
It was formerly the custom in our village, when
a poor debtor came out of jail, for his
acquaintances to salute him, looking through
their fingers, which were crossed to represent
the grating of a jail window, "How do ye do?" My
neighbors did not thus salute me, but first
looked at me, and then at one another, as if I
had returned from a long journey. I was put into
jail as I was going to the shoemaker's to get a
shoe which was mended. When I was let out the
next morning, I proceeded to finish my errand,
and, having put on my mended shoe, joined a
huckleberry party, who were impatient to put
themselves under my conduct; and in half an
hour—for the horse was soon tackled—was in the
midst of a huckleberry field, on one of our
highest hills, two miles off, and then the State
was nowhere to be seen.
[8]
This is the whole history of "My Prisons."(2)
[9]
I have never declined paying the highway tax,
because I am as desirous of being a good
neighbor as I am of being a bad subject; and as
for supporting schools, I am doing my part to
educate my fellow-countrymen now. It is for no
particular item in the tax-bill that I refuse to
pay it. I simply wish to refuse allegiance to
the State, to withdraw and stand aloof from it
effectually. I do not care to trace the course
of my dollar, if I could, till it buys a man or
a musket to shoot one with—the dollar is
innocent—but I am concerned to trace the effects
of my allegiance. In fact, I quietly declare war
with the State, after my fashion, though I will
still make what use and get what advantage of
her I can, as is usual in such cases.
[10]
If others pay the tax which is demanded of me,
from a sympathy with the State, they do but what
they have already done in their own case, or
rather they abet injustice to a greater extent
than the State requires. If they pay the tax
from a mistaken interest in the individual
taxed, to save his property, or prevent his
going to jail, it is because they have not
considered wisely how far they let their private
feelings interfere with the public good.
[11]
This, then, is my position at present. But one
cannot be too much on his guard in such a case,
lest his action be biased by obstinacy or an
undue regard for the opinions of men. Let him
see that he does only what belongs to himself
and to the hour.
[12]
I think sometimes, Why, this people mean well;
they are only ignorant; they would do better if
they knew how: why give your neighbors this pain
to treat you as they are not inclined to? But I
think, again, This is no reason why I should do
as they do, or permit others to suffer much
greater pain of a different kind. Again, I
sometimes say to myself, When many millions of
men, without heat, without ill-will, without
personal feeling of any kind, demand of you a
few shillings only, without the possibility,
such is their constitution, of retracting or
altering their present demand, and without the
possibility, on your side, of appeal to any
other millions, why expose yourself to this
overwhelming brute force? You do not resist cold
and hunger, the winds and the waves, thus
obstinately; you quietly submit to a thousand
similar necessities. You do not put your head
into the fire. But just in proportion as I
regard this as not wholly a brute force, but
partly a human force, and consider that I have
relations to those millions as to so many
millions of men, and not of mere brute or
inanimate things, I see that appeal is possible,
first and instantaneously, from them to the
Maker of them, and, secondly, from them to
themselves. But, if I put my head deliberately
into the fire, there is no appeal to fire or to
the Maker of fire, and I have only myself to
blame. If I could convince myself that I have
any right to be satisfied with men as they are,
and to treat them accordingly, and not
according, in some respects, to my requisitions
and expectations of what they and I ought to be,
then, like a good Mussulman
(3) and fatalist, I
should endeavor to be satisfied with things as
they are, and say it is the will of God. And,
above all, there is this difference between
resisting this and a purely brute or natural
force, that I can resist this with some effect;
but I cannot expect, like Orpheus,(4)
to change the nature of the rocks and trees and
beasts.
[13]
I do not wish to quarrel with any man or nation.
I do not wish to split hairs, to make fine
distinctions, or set myself up as better than my
neighbors. I seek rather, I may say, even an
excuse for conforming to the laws of the land. I
am but too ready to conform to them. Indeed, I
have reason to suspect myself on this head; and
each year, as the tax-gatherer comes round, I
find myself disposed to review the acts and
position of the general and State governments,
and the spirit of the people, to discover a
pretext for conformity.
"We must affect our country as our parents,
And if at any time we alienate
Our love or industry from doing it honor,
We must respect effects and teach the soul
Matter of conscience and religion,
And not desire of rule or benefit."(5)
[14]
I believe that the State will soon be able to
take all my work of this sort out of my hands,
and then I shall be no better a patriot than my
fellow-countrymen. Seen from a lower point of
view, the Constitution, with all its faults, is
very good; the law and the courts are very
respectable; even this State and this American
government are, in many respects, very admirable
and rare things, to be thankful for, such as a
great many have described them; but seen from a
point of view a little higher, they are what I
have described them; seen from a higher still,
and the highest, who shall say what they are, or
that they are worth looking at or thinking of at
all?
[15]
However, the government does not concern me
much, and I shall bestow the fewest possible
thoughts on it. It is not many moments that I
live under a government, even in this world. If
a man is thought-free, fancy-free,
imagination-free, that which is not never
for a long time appearing to be to him,
unwise rulers or reformers cannot fatally
interrupt him.
[16]
I know that most men think differently from
myself; but those whose lives are by profession
devoted to the study of these or kindred
subjects, content me as little as any. Statesmen
and legislators, standing so completely within
the institution, never distinctly and nakedly
behold it. They speak of moving society, but
have no resting-place without it. They may be
men of a certain experience and discrimination,
and have no doubt invented ingenious and even
useful systems, for which we sincerely thank
them; but all their wit and usefulness lie
within certain not very wide limits. They are
wont to forget that the world is not governed by
policy and expediency. Webster never goes behind
government, and so cannot speak with authority
about it. His words are wisdom to those
legislators who contemplate no essential reform
in the existing government; but for thinkers,
and those who legislate for all time, he never
once glances at the subject. I know of those
whose serene and wise speculations on this theme
would soon reveal the limits of his mind's range
and hospitality. Yet, compared with the cheap
professions of most reformers, and the still
cheaper wisdom and eloquence of politicians in
general, his are almost the only sensible and
valuable words, and we thank Heaven for him.
Comparatively, he is always strong, original,
and, above all, practical. Still, his quality is
not wisdom, but prudence. The lawyer's truth is
not truth, but consistency or a consistent
expediency. Truth is always in harmony with
herself, and is not concerned chiefly to reveal
the justice that may consist with wrong-doing.
He well deserves to be called, as he has been
called, the Defender of the Constitution. There
are really no blows to be given by him but
defensive ones. He is not a leader, but a
follower. His leaders are the men of '87.(6)
"I have never made an effort," he says, "and
never propose to make an effort; I have never
countenanced an effort, and never mean to
countenance an effort, to disturb the
arrangement as originally made, by which the
various States came into the Union." Still
thinking of the sanction which the Constitution
gives to slavery, he says, "Because it was a
part of the original compact—let it stand."(7)
Notwithstanding his special acuteness and
ability, he is unable to take a fact out of its
merely political relations, and behold it as it
lies absolutely to be disposed of by the
intellect—what, for instance, it behooves a man
to do here in America to-day with regard to
slavery, but ventures, or is driven, to make
some such desperate answer as the following,
while professing to speak absolutely, and as a
private man—from which what new and singular
code of social duties might be inferred? "The
manner," says he, "in which the governments of
those States where slavery exists are to
regulate it is for their own consideration,
under their responsibility to their
constituents, to the general laws of propriety,
humanity, and justice, and to God. Associations
formed elsewhere, springing from a feeling of
humanity, or any other cause, have nothing
whatever to do with it. They have never received
any encouragement from me, and they never will."
[17]
They who know of no purer sources of truth, who
have traced up its stream no higher, stand, and
wisely stand, by the Bible and the Constitution,
and drink at it there with reverence and
humility; but they who behold where it comes
trickling into this lake or that pool, gird up
their loins once more, and continue their
pilgrimage toward its fountain-head.
[18]
No man with a genius for legislation has
appeared in America. They are rare in the
history of the world. There are orators,
politicians, and eloquent men, by the thousand;
but the speaker has not yet opened his mouth to
speak who is capable of settling the much-vexed
questions of the day. We love eloquence for its
own sake, and not for any truth which it may
utter, or any heroism it may inspire. Our
legislators have not yet learned the comparative
value of free-trade and of freedom, of union,
and of rectitude, to a nation. They have no
genius or talent for comparatively humble
questions of taxation and finance, commerce and
manufacturers and agriculture. If we were left
solely to the wordy wit of legislators in
Congress for our guidance, uncorrected by the
seasonable experience and the effectual
complaints of the people, America would not long
retain her rank among the nations. For eighteen
hundred years, though perchance I have no right
to say it, the New Testament has been written;
yet where is the legislator who has wisdom and
practical talent enough to avail himself of the
light which it sheds on the science of
legislation?
[19]
The authority of government, even such as I am
willing to submit to—for I will cheerfully obey
those who know and can do better than I, and in
many things even those who neither know nor can
do so well—is still an impure one: to be
strictly just, it must have the sanction and
consent of the governed. It can have no pure
right over my person and property but what I
concede to it. The progress from an absolute to
a limited monarchy, from a limited monarchy to a
democracy, is a progress toward a true respect
for the individual. Even the Chinese philosopher(8)
was wise enough to regard the individual as the
basis of the empire. Is a democracy, such as we
know it, the last improvement possible in
government? Is it not possible to take a step
further towards recognizing and organizing the
rights of man? There will never be a really free
and enlightened State until the State comes to
recognize the individual as a higher and
independent power, from which all its own power
and authority are derived, and treats him
accordingly. I please myself with imagining a
State at least which can afford to be just to
all men, and to treat the individual with
respect as a neighbor; which even would not
think it inconsistent with its own repose if a
few were to live aloof from it, not meddling
with it, nor embraced by it, who fulfilled all
the duties of neighbors and fellow-men. A State
which bore this kind of fruit, and suffered it
to drop off as fast as it ripened, would prepare
the way for a still more perfect and glorious
State, which also I have imagined, but not yet
anywhere seen.
Notes
1. At the time, Concord was a county
seat - back
2. Reference to Le Mie Prigioni by
Silvio Pellico (1789-1854), about his 8 years as
a political prisoner, English translation 1833 -
back
3. A Muslim - back
4. In Greek mythology, a musician whose
songs could charm
rocks and
trees and beasts - back
5. George Peele (1557?-1597?), Battle
of Alcazar (in later editions only) -
back
6. Writers of the Constitution in 1787 -
back
7. Danial Webster (1782-1852) from speech
in U.S. Senate - back
8. Probably
Confucius (551-479 B.C.) - back
